The truth is rarely pure and never simple.

[devils_bargain]

Who: Dorian Gray and Adrian Veidt.
Where: Floor 7, Room 1. Dorian's room.
When: Today, during the truthiness flood.
What: Dorian presses Adrian for information on the libelist who goes by the name of Oscar Wilde.
Warnings: Murder, alcohol, sex (implied). 
Flood notes: Dorian is very much affected. He is also very much in his room and unreachable. He's

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[devils_bargain]

Dorian listened to what sounded like a summation of the mans life. He sounded somewhat interesting, but in a very remote way. Dorian had already decided he hated this man. Adrian had previously suggested that perhaps this book, Wilde's only book of note, was written by Lord Henry and published under Wilde's name. Dorian, too, had suspected that. And yet, he could not be sure.

Dorian nodded in response, prepared to continue his lie and tell Adrian that, yes, the book was libelous and he had been grievously wronged, but when he opened his mouth a terrible thing spilled forth. The truth.

"Actually, it is all quite true," he spoke matter of factly, his tone casual and light as if they were conversing about nothing more troubling than a story from the paper. "Every last word. It is almost as if I had written it myself, posed as a narrator. However, there is very much that has been omitted. One does not, after all, pass nineteen years in two hundred pages..."

It was only afterwards, as he became aware of what it was that he had said and its deadly difference from what he had meant to say that his expression changed to one of horror. He stared at Dorian, not now in an appraising way, but to judge the effect of his words and whether there was some small chance Adrian would think he were joking.

[triggered_it]

Adrian just raised one perfectly manicured eyebrow at the casual statement. Dorian would not joke about such a thing, if he had been intending to keep up the lie.

"Well," he said, equally casual, as if continuing to converse about a troubling story from a paper. "I think I just figured out what the flood is."

Truth, then. It had to be. Dangerous territory for Adrian, but he wouldn't let his confidence falter. It was Dorian's reputation that now stood on the line. His own, he felt, would be perfectly safe, so long as the right subjects were avoided. "I'll tell no one what you just said," he reassured. "In fact, nothing that happens inside this room ever need be known to anyone else." Yes, that would be implying exactly what Dorian probably thinks it is.

[devils_bargain]

Dorian realized that Adrian believed him. He had sensed at the outset that Adrian had not entirely believed in his innocence, but any hope for that was dashed. In the moments before Adrian spoke, Dorian did not allow his gaze to falter, though he was thinking through the fastest method of killing Adrian where he sat with something he could easily put his hands on. It would be a shame to kill Adrian, really. He appeared to have the potential to be quite useful, and quite enjoyable, but he now posed a threat to Dorian's continued well being.

He was quickly distracted, at least partially, from those thoughts when Adrian noted casually that he had figured out what the flood was. It clicked for Dorian as well. Truth? Was there somehow a magical aura of truth over the barge, compelling the affected to answer questions honestly and openly?

Adrian promised Dorian that his words would not leave the room, that nothing that happens would leave the room. Dorian did not miss the implication behind the statement, yet he did not trust Adrian. Adrian had a powerful weapon now, and that was information. Dorian's secrets were plain to Adrian, who had read his book, who knew too much about his life and his sins. Dorian needed assurance that Adrian would honor his word and keep their conversations secret.

"I thank you for your sensitivity..." he said, choosing his words carefully. He was new to this place, unused to strangeness such as this ship saw, yet he was skilled in the art of manipulation. "...and also for understanding how very unpleasant it would be if my secret were to become common knowledge. Tell me," he said, pausing to take a drag from his cigarette, partly for catty dramatic effect, "What secret truth, if told of you, would bring you the most disgrace?"

[triggered_it]

"Of course, it's only fair to tell you something in return, and neither of us are unused to bargaining." He paused. There were many secret truths that would bring him disgrace but obviously none compared to the fact that he had murdered fifteen million people. The way that the question was worded, though. He could lie, the same way he had first lied to Hayley.

"Behind the lovely image I put forward, I'm a murderer, like you." It was a half truth. He was a murderer, but he was so much more. A murderer kills once. A serial killer kills more. What was someone who killed fifteen million people other than a dictator?

Adrian wasn't a dictator, even if that was what Martha had called him. No, he simply did what needed to be done, and now he was dead, left to let the world make their own idiotic decisions, probably undoing all the good that he had made such sacrifices for in the first place.

[devils_bargain]

Dorian seemed, at once, satisfied and ruffled. He did not consider himself a murderer. Those words, they were harsh light on a dark moment in his life. He hadn't had a choice, he had acted in self-defense. He had scarcely realized what was happening until he saw the knife sink into Basil's flesh. No, Dorian had not been in his right mind then. He could not be blamed for it, not really. Not when one had the full picture, you see.

Yet, Dorian could not bring himself to correct Adrian on this point. His mouth would not open, the words would not come. This fact deeply unsettled Dorian. Was he lying to himself?

At length, Dorian nodded, more to himself than to Adrian. "Do you believe Lord Henry wrote the book to dishonor me?"

[triggered_it]

So long as he was satisfied. The next answer, though, would obviously be shattering. He didn't even bother trying to lie this time.

"No, I believe you're in the same situation as Stephen O'Brien, Captain Beatty, and Iago. Yes, the same Iago from Othello. Parallel universes, Dorian. What is fictional in one universe, penned by a man that exists in that one universe, is reality in another universe where that author does not exist. Does that make sense?"

Of course it didn't, but it was the best he could do to explain.

[devils_bargain]

Dorian stared at Adrian blankly. The first two names meant nothing to him, but Shakespeare's Iago was familiar and for a moment he was distracted from what Adrian was telling him. He returned to it after a moment, and tried to imagine it. Two universes, planets, stars, galaxies. In one there was an author creating stories, and in the other the stories were real.

Adrian was suggesting that the story was, in fact, a work of fiction. And yet, Dorian existed. Dorian was from some other world, some strange universe where lies breathe life.

Dorian was at once troubled and amused. "No, not at all," he said, "Dare I ask, have you been using drugs?"

[triggered_it]

"Not in a very long time," he answered casually. Not since he had been aboard the Barge, and not since quite a while before that, but Adrian knew a little moderation and intelligence went a long way with casual drug use.

"You will probably meet and speak with Iago for yourself, sometime. Then you will see. Also, science had advanced quite a lot by my time: alternate universes were all but proven to exist."

[devils_bargain]

"I don't understand... Iago is here?" Dorian cried, "But I know him to be fictional, just a character in a play... you said mine was the universe in which stories are true, but what of stories that I know? You are suggesting multiple universes... it is not possible..."

Dorian had not taken well to the idea of two universes, but now this... he seemed to suggest realities that bent in on themselves, that were cascading in story and life down a barely traceable path. Dorian could not fathom this. Not at all.

[triggered_it]

Adrian nodded to the first question. Iago was, indeed, here. "That is how people will know you, at first, as just a character from a novel. Multiple universes is exactly what I'm suggesting."

He gave a little laugh to lighten the mood. "You'll probably really think I'm on drugs again, but in my world, we had a man who had the power to change matter according to his will. He could walk across the sun and see particles that could hardly be said to have existed at all. My research with him helped advance science enough to nearly confirm the multi-universe theory . . . part of that theory includes some very complicated science, but I can lend you some books from my world about it. Or you can go to the library yourself and read up, if you are that patient and scholarly."

Somehow, he doubted that Dorian was patient enough or educated enough in mathematics (through no fault of his own) to follow the technicalities of string theory and quantum mechanics, though the latter was actually much easier than it seemed.

[devils_bargain]

Dorian sat in silent shock while Adrian spoke. It was all quite over his head and yet he could not find the words to tell him that actually, he did not care at all to read these books and learn about these strange and impossible discoveries. He was not a man of science, nor did he want to be. That is not to say, however, that he was a stupid man. He had merely gone down another path, read different books, entered into different circles. Partly this was because he had no mind for science, yet also partly because he found learned men to be all nose, or all forehead, or something equally horrid. Yet here was Adrian blowing the comfortable world he had known out of the water and looking no more wretched than Dorian, who was not yet wretched at all.

"Either on drugs or insane, yes," Dorian answered to Adrian's supposition. That was all he could answer to, as lost as he felt. Dorian felt as though perhaps he were the one going insane.

"So, to you, am I just some character in a novel?"

[triggered_it]

Adrian merely rolled his eyes at the accusations. This was getting ridiculous, but he did have patience so he turned much more serious for Dorian's next question.

"No. To me you are a person, and I will do everything I can to help protect your reputation. It is unfair for you to have all your secrets on display in a book." He did his best to sound reassuring, and he meant every word. He wanted Dorian as an ally.

[devils_bargain]

Dorian seemed satisfied in that, at least. Later, perhaps, when it had sunken in, he might have a better understanding of all of this. There was a large part of him that believed Adrian based solely upon his conviction and his clear knowledge of that which he spoke. Dorian was a man who was easily influenced, much of the time. He did not think it, in fact, did not realize it, but he was the sort of man on whom others could easily prey. He had begun as his painting had begun, a blank white canvas surrounded by a world waiting to stain him with the color of life and corruption.

"For that I am grateful," he said. "I'm afraid this past day, the book, has taken a heavy toll on me. I feel..." he searched for words which did not come.

Sighing, he changed subjects and so, changed tones, pulling on a gracious affect befitting a pleasant host. "I could use a drink," he smiled, a tense, drawn expression, "Would you like one as well, Adrian?"

[triggered_it]

Adrian knew that Dorian was easily influenced, easily corrupted, and he knew that as manipulative as the other could be, he was the master of speed chess and gambits. In truth, though, he was probably just enjoying Dorian's company, as much as he could enjoy anyone's company, that is.

"I'll have a drink and a cigarette too, if you don't mind."

Why not? It had been a trying day, and now that 'Oscar Wilde,' the flood, and the multiple universes had all been discussed and accounted for, he was feeling much better. Plus, it amused him to think that Dorian was corrupting him a little, but he knew he was far beyond being corrupted by anyone, which made the game all the more enjoyable.

[devils_bargain]

Dorian was fetching drinks as Adrian responded. "I knew you wouldn't resist long," he said, a smile in his voice. "After all, a cigarette is the perfect type of a perfect pleasure. It is exquisite, and it leaves one unsatisfied." He gathered things on a tray and returned to sit. "What more can one want?"

Dorian knew what more he wanted.

"Do you like absinthe?" he asked, casually. He wasn't waiting for the answer, because this was what he had chosen to offer; it was what he wanted, and he hated to drink absinthe when a guest drank something mundane. On the tray were two small stemmed glasses, a small covered dish, a bottle of sickly green liquid, a small pitcher of water, and a perforated spoon. Dorian made quick work of the preparations, balancing the spoon on the rim of one glass and from the dish produced a sugar cube which was set on the spoon. Once he had poured absinthe over this, he set the bottle aside and offered Adrian a cigarette and took one for himself. With easy perfection, he held the cigarette in his lips as he lit the sugar cube with a match and offered the flame to Adrian, for his cigarette, and then lit his own. Setting the spent match on the tray, he allowed the sugar to burn down before diluting the drink with a small amount of water which, conveniently, put out the flame which had latched itself to the spoon in the absence of sugar.

A brief stir, and the drink was offered to Adrian and he repeated the preparations with his own glass.

[triggered_it]

"Of course," he replied, watching Dorian expertly pour the greenish liquid. This day was turning out better than expected. Flood days were rarely so pleasant.

He lit the cigarette, inhaled, and exhaled the cloud of smoke slowly, fully enjoying the familiar sensation of tobacco. It had been so long now, he had nearly forgotten the pleasure of smoking -- not that harming his body would become a habit because Adrian was nothing if not fully in control of himself and his vices.

He was savoring every moment, every drag from the cigarette, and every sip of the absinthe now, as he waited for the effects of the latter to kick in. "Thank you for your hospitality. I only hope that I can somehow return the favor," and a light laugh, because yes, he was being overly suggestive, but hopefully not so unsubtle as to completely lack class.

Dorian could learn some subtlety, but he thought he liked the other better without it.